


Running Tensions

by Xenadd



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Pre-show, accidental walk-in, non-established relationship, post-AND
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenadd/pseuds/Xenadd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he crossed the lounge, an unmistakable groan came from the cockpit. It’s late. Kanan’s not sure how late, but he knows it’s late enough for Hera to be taking her own advice and getting some sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Tensions

Kanan woke with a start, drenched in sweat and mouth parched. It was always the same when the nightmares came. _Run_. They always came after a particularly difficult op. _Gunfire and smoke and burning flesh._ And that had a been a long hard day for both of them. _Run run run a soft green hand gripping his own._ Hera was .. a new fixture. 

It had been a bad day. 

Pushing his hair back from his face, Kanan rolled out of bed. Water. He definitely need water. Pulling his sleep trousers up from where they had slipped to his hips, he cracked his back as he made his way to the Ghost’s tiny galley. As he crossed the lounge, an unmistakable groan came from the cockpit. It’s late. Kanan’s not sure how late, but he knows it’s late enough for Hera to be taking her own advice and getting some sleep.

Sighing and scrubbing at his hair again, he started to make his way towards the cockpit. Hera was a workaholic if ever there was one;  a distraction technique as much as drink is - was - for him. She would never get any rest unless someone forcibly removed her from her piloting chair. He can apologise while he’s at it. For the op, for today. For… the last while. Kanan tried not to note how long it had been since – but it must be coming up to that time of the year again. Tensions were running high, and the electricity between the two of them was brewing into a storm.

The door to the cockpit was open as he moved through the corridor; another groan meeting him as he noticed that Hera was clutching the back of her headrest. Shit. Was she hurt? She should have said something. Typical that she would push him off to get some rest instead of 

His burst of speed stopped when he noticed something else. Something hanging off the armrest of the co-pilot seat. _His_ seat. It looked suspiciously like a silky breastband. A silky breastband burned into his memory after an accidental early-morning encounter with too few clothes _stop staring stop staring_.

Kanan stood frozen, unsure of what to do when another groan pulled his attention up from the discarded underwear and _there_. Hera reflected perfectly against the black of space. Her feet up on the console, eyes shut and breasts bare. One hand clinging to the headrest as the other moved frantically under… Force, are those silk _Ryl-knickers_? Her body undulating in the reflection, hips thrusting ever more erratically as her face contorted in pleasure.

A tank lay crumpled on the floor, an abandoned datapad on top. She must have been making some last minute drive adjustments before she got… distracted.

A part of him began to scream for attention, begging him to take grasp and match her movements. Match his breath to her gasps and share her pleasure. But he was too shocked and too mesmerised to listen; too unwilling to shatter the moment.

Hera’s back arched, hand no longer moving, chest heaving as she gasped out what sounded suspiciously like _Kanan_ as a lazy smile spread across her face. His name, she said _his name_. Certain parts of him screamed louder than before, but that was his cue to remember where he was and what he was doing. He had to move _move_ before Hera realised _quietly quietly go go go._

Comfortably sated but still frustrated (a distraction, too distracting), Hera opened her eyes in time to see Kanan’s bare-backed reflection hurrying away. A heady cocktail of pleasure, annoyance and disappointment mixing in her belly _._ At least she would delight in Kanan’s blushes for the next day, if not longer. A fetching shade that spread across his ears and down his neck. Hera’s fingers always itched to peel off his jumper and find out just how low it spread, especially after that time an unmistakable _Hera_ came from the ‘fresher just as she knocked followed by a roaring silence and definitely not enough clothes first thing in the morning.

*

A few years later - after Hera has mapped every inch of his blushes - Kanan wakes to find himself in an empty bed. Huffing to himself, he rolls out of bed and pulls on a crumpled pair of sleep trousers. The ship’s ambient temperature is kept low during the night cycle to avoid overheating in bed. Grumbling to himself as he begins to search for his captain - honestly who gets up in the dead of night forcing je-  non-Jedi to go looking for them.

As he reaches the lounge there comes a groan from the cockpit. That groan. The groan that he now knows so well. Suddenly, Kanan has walked back into that moment that has been burned into his brain for years: a green hand grasping at the headrest, breastband hanging off the co-pilot chair (still _his_ chair, always his chair). Perfect reflection against the black of space. But this time her eyes are open, and she’s staring straight back at him through the reflection (through the stars and the vastness of space). As their eyes meet, her mouth snaps up into a wicked smile right as her back arches and there, _right there_ , that was definitely his name this time. Definitely. 

That was how Kanan found out that _nothing_ happens on Hera’s ship that she didn’t know about.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for May the Fourth.
> 
> Ryl-knickers as in French knickers only… Rylothian!
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr.


End file.
